


Count the Sheep

by Arlzureinne_Karale



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlzureinne_Karale/pseuds/Arlzureinne_Karale
Summary: To fall asleep, count the sheep. But all of his sheep hated silence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> End Roll belong to Segawa, and this oneshot dedicated to Livre Azure. Oniichan Tabasa is seriously the best Tabasa.

On a particular lonely day, he would climb a tree and sit.

It was actually an unpleasant thing to do, for the eyeballs in the tree would glance at him when he was occupied with something. Just a mere short glance, and yet, he could feel chill running down his spine, but when he turned, the eyeballs immediately stilled—acted like an inanimate object as if hoping he would not notice, and that was the end of that.

But recently, he found a tree with eyeballs that would not glance at him.

He actually tried to touch the inanimate eyeballs once; it was rock solid, unlike the usual Edamameye that kind of squishy and soft to the touch. When he tried to pluck it with two hands, he fell head first to the ground. And oh boy, did the white-haired Doctor made quite a fuss because of the big, ugly bruise hidden between the strand of blonde hair.

Still, he had not learned his lesson.

And so, on a particular lonely day without company, where he had to stop, and rest, _and breathe_ , the blond-haired boy would lead himself astray from Dozing Forest’s trail and climb a tree, where the eyeballs were still, and watch nothing of importance.

He could see the trail from the branch he sat on, and sometimes, he see someone he knew.

The Dreamer repeatedly told himself; it was enough.

Even if it was not, he did not deserve more.

 

* * *

 

Today, Russell did not go to the Informant’s house first thing in the morning. He took a long way to avoid Tabasa McNeil’s and his sheep, he hid when Yumi Bomber stroll down the street, he bowed to remove himself from Mireille Nif’s line of sight, he did not paid Dogma Toscarina a visit, and he hid when Kantera turn to take a good look at something.

When the main road was only a vague shadow behind his back, Russell strayed from the path.

Like Little Red Riding Hood who was raptured with daisies, lilies, rosies, and hundred more colorful flowers, Russell hopped from the forest’s trail and effortlessly climbed the nearest tree. A simple mark was engraved  on the bark, of kid’s doodle of rabbit to tell Russell it was his tree—the one without eyeballs that could glance around as if it were alive.

Upon deemed the height was enough, Russell sat on the branch and sighed.

He could see the forest’s trail from here, and if there was someone observant enough, they could see Russell without problem, since white and red certainly did not mingle with green.

Fatigue laced Russell’s visage, eyes the color of daylight sky dimmed to the last piece of evening, he knew he was more pale than usual, and that was why he avoided Kantera at all cost. Not even Kantera though, Russell was sure everybody could see his growing eye bags.

He did not get much sleep.

But was not he actually sleeping now?

Now that he thought about it, Russell never actually slept. He was sleeping in the reality, but he was awake in the fantasy. When it was time for him to slept in the fantasy, he was awake in the reality. Sure, Russell never actually felt weary, but all of this was getting tiring for him.

The blond-haired boy lean on his tree’s bark. Stares thrown to the side, he caught an eyeball from the tree right beside him quickly shifted its gaze, but Russell was too tired to care.

He wondered if Walter Bartley already researched a thing or two about that eyeballs. Raymond Costa did say Russell’s dream was one of the uncommon ones, with so much dangerous things lurking around even when the dreamer was in the verge of waking.

At least Russell knew those eyeballs did not have negative effect like yama-basho.

He flinched when he remembered the unpleasant memories, the black flowers, the sways, the whispers—oh god, _the whispers_. Russell had to paid a visit to Gardenia Reitman’s house and listening to her cheerful chattering for many hours to forcefully drown the whispers.

The dreamer could almost hear the whispers again, and he sighed.

Everything around him quivered; his world was trembling, the sky was tumbling, darkness spilling, and Russell drew his knees and hugged it closer, eyes closed—he tried to concentrate on his own breathing and heartbeat, he counted each and every second of it.

Yet, the whispers did not stop.

“Russell ...? Is that you?”

And then, his entire universe was a stagnant silence.

Blue eyes opened, and the boy glanced down. A pair of equally bluish shade of irises met his gaze, and Tabasa tilted his head when Russell did not answers. Another question thrown between them, for the older male was a curious guardian, “What are you doing up there?”

Russell did not have an answer; what was he doing up here, indeed?

“... to rest.”

Was he really?

Honestly, if Russell was given a choice, the dreamer would lurk around in the Informant’s house instead of forest full of judging eyes. And it seemed Tabasa, too, did not buy his answer, because the black-haired lad hopped from the forest’s trail to approached the dreamer.

“I’m not sure this is actually a comfortable place to rest, though,” Tabasa glanced, frown marred his feature, gaze fell to a particular eye that grown on a tree beside Russell’s tree—did it moved just now, because Tabasa would like to think that it was just his imagination.

“It ... wasn’t,” Russell slowly nodded.

Tabasa looked up, almost impressed Russell could climb to a place so high he has to craned his neck to see the younger male perched while hugging his knees, “Then, why are you up there? I’m sure your house is a more comfortable place. Or you can come to my place,” he spoke softly, confusion laced the animal breeder’s voice when he heard Russell’s answer.

The dreamer’s grip on his knees tightened, “... I don’t know.”

The frown on Tabasa’s face, it did not suit him; never suited him, “Russell, if something happen, you can talk to me, you know?” the blue-eyed man was absolutely concerned, and his emotion was seeping through his voice, delicately braided within his gaze.

And for the first time since their conversation, Russell actually looked at him.

On the same shades of daylight sky, Tabasa saw something shattered—and he, too, crumbled.

“Let’s go out of here, yeah? And you can tell me about anything, I’m all ears, honest,” Tabasa smiled, one hand taken the musket strapped to his shoulder for granted.

Russell did not answer, but the blond-haired boy quietly hopped down.

“Where do you want to go?” the animal breeder asked once Russell reached the ground almost soundlessly, his smile remained, and Russell wondered if he could smile like that too.

Where did he want to go?

Not his house. Not Tabasa’s too. Not Dozing Forest, let alone Darcover Town. Not the gloomy hospital, and certainly not the beach. Russell’s thought ventured deeper to his memories, and suddenly, a vivid memory splashed him in the face.

“The ... aquarium.”

Or the Deepsea Hotel. Whichever the name, really.

Tabasa’s face brightened, “All right, then!”

The trip was not that long. Russell requested for them dropped by at Walter’s laboratory, and was suprised when the green-eyed Reseacher was nowhere to be found. There was a clacked sound in the recently regulated room, and Tabasa pointed if Walter was currently working.

When they arrived at the Deepsea Hotel, the penguins cheerfully greeted them and led them to the room especially prepared for the so-called Benefactor of Deepsea Hotel. It was both of Russell and Tabasa’s first time came back to the underwater hotel after fighting a strange, white-haired girl along with Kantera and Dogma, so they were almost still too guarded.

“Honestly, this is far nicer than resting in the Dozing Forest,” Tabasa hummed, but when he turned, he found Russell almost nodded off on one of the sofas, blue eyes barely opened.

The ever so concerned young man quickly stepped to Russell’s side, but instead of sleeping, Russell suddenly snapped awake. Iron bat immediately pointed to Tabasa’s face, and for a second, the young dreamer saw blood dripped between strand of midnight hair.

“Whoa—! Sorry, Russell, I must scare you very much,” Tabasa swallowed, certainly did not appreciated a weapon pointed right to his face from a sleep-deprived middle schooler. The older male sighed when Russell lowered his weapon.

“... I’m ... sorry,” the light in Russell’s eyes dimmed.

“No, it’s okay. I know the feeling of approached with speed,” the animal breeder shuddered, suddenly remembering something he should not remember. Upon seeing Russell’s sleep-deprived state, Tabasa paused, eyes the color of midday world flashed with concentration.

“Russell, are you alright? Did you even get a good night sleep?”

The said boy breathed. He pulled his knees again and curled.

If anything, Russell already learned a lot about Tabasa McNeil—this Tabasa, not the real Tabasa; how he could endlessly persistently seriously asking all kinds of question until he got a tiny flaw and just suddenly _knew_ all of the answers were a lie.

“... No.”

Tabasa frowned, and Russell honestly felt like he was failing an extremely important test.

“Why?”

Why, indeed? Apart from the fact that Russell never actually slept, there was also yama-basho’s endless whispers, knocking his thought and wrecked his entire delusion.

Why, indeed? Apart from the fact that Russell was never actually conscious, there was also that Nightmare’s judging stares, scratched his emotion and destroyed his universe.

His voice was soft, and Tabasa had to moved closer.

“The silence ... it’s scares me.”

The older male paused, blue eyes blinked; once, twice, thrice. When he spoke, his voice was unsure, “You can’t sleep ... because you can’t stand the silence?” it was supposed to be exclamation—from the arrange of the words, yet Tabasa was asking instead.

Russell nodded and bowed his head. The young dreamer’s breath was even—calm, like his own heartbeat, but his thought riddled with so many question.

And those whispers; it was back.

“Then, if there is a noise, will you sleep, then?” Tabasa softly asked, voice no more than a mumble, yet his voice sharply cut the static noises and whispers of accusation.

“I can try ...” Russell croaked.

Tabasa nodded, determination sparkled in his eyes, although he knew Russell could not see him. The older male plopped himself down beside Russell, blue eyes stared at the vas sea in front of him with fascination. There was a miliseconds of silence, and Russell tensed.

But then, Tabasa sang.

It was not exactly a song, no, it was just a mere nursery rhyme.

Like Dogma’s voice when he was working, Tabasa’s singing voice was actually pleasant. As pleasant as his smile. It reminded Russell of the chimes of bell, a twinkling of little trinkets lined down on a particularly homey shop. It was warm, and relaxing, and reassuring, and promising, _and told him everything was alright_.

The concept of nursery rhymes and lullabies were foreign for Russell, since he never heard of them before. He found his consciousness slowly slipping away, and he vaguely wondered if that meant he will woke up in the reality. But no; he did not want to.

He was so tired, too tired, he just wanted a rest. A good rest without silence and a certain flowers’ mumbles of his guilt. A sleep without dream, without a question which one was his world, without judging eyes and shadow of Nightmares, without splitting image of his who hummed about how everything here was a mere imagination.

Hearing Tabasa’s melodic rhymes was enough to keep the whispers away; now, the dreamer could fall into a dreamless slumber. He slowly counted his own breath, Tabasa’s rhymes were strangely in sync with Russell’s heartbeat.

For Russell, it was more than enough.

And on the count of 360, his entire universe was a stagnant silence.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading!
> 
> Another character study for Russell and his interaction with his, cough oniichan cough, Tabasa. Because their dynamics are so precious, it's broke my heart. Hopefully I can write Russell and Kantera's dynamics in the near future, or even Dreamsend Inc. because they are also precious older figures.
> 
> This is actually for a fic trade with Livre Azure, it's supposed to be fluff, but welp. I hope you enjoyed it ...? I need more End Roll fluff in my life, hopefully I can write a pure fluff someday!
> 
> Big thanks to Freyyyy for putting up with my 2 am nonsense, I'm so sorry for troubling you with my typos and grammars.
> 
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes, thank you for reading~!  
> -Azureinne K.


End file.
